The Lost Perspective
by crimescenelover
Summary: A fiery pain spread out from his shoulder and he tried to slow the blood seeping out. But he didn't have time for that. For two feet away from him, his partner lay dying and there was nothing he could do about it.
1. The Ghosts That We Knew

**Title: **The Lost Perspective

**Chapter Title: **Ghosts That We Knew

**Summary: **A fiery pain spread out from his shoulder and he tried to slow down the blood seeping out. But he didn't have time for that. For two feet away from him, his partner lay dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

**Author's Note:** I'm back with a new story. And this time it is going to be a bit of a re-write of the two final episodes of season three. The angst was good, however Ghille Gloop inspired me to think: "I bet I could take it up a notch". So this one goes out to all of you readers who just wasn't satisfied enough with the amount of angst the episode produced. This is to you!

SO SPOILERS FOR SEASON THREE!

I will also put in small quotes from the two episodes, either in the middle or in the end, or even in the beginning so you know when in the original storyline this is taking place. I probably won't write a lot of the scenes, so think of it this way: the episodes run like they actually did (with a few exceptions) and this story will run parallel to it :P

The chapter titles are songs from Mumford and Sons, an awesome band! Give them a listen if you haven't already! :D

**Disclaimer: **I make no money from this as it was made for entertainment purposes only. I own nothing.

* * *

"_What are we missing here?_"

"_Uncle Jamie_."

"_He took an extra tour_."

* * *

"I'm telling ya, Reagan. This whole thing with the Bitterman houses is going to blow up in our faces someday," Vinny Cruz said as he and Jamie made their way down the New York City streets.

They were two hours into their tour. Both had agreed to take another shift as a way of distracting their thoughts of the suicide they had witnessed firsthand earlier in the week. Besides they could always use the extra money.

"You don't know that," Jamie tried to argue, though he wasn't sure if he really felt he disagreed. "Who knows? Maybe someone is finally going to step up to Santana. It isn't like it's everybody is drug dealers in that neighborhood."

"No, but he's got them in his pocket. But it isn't all bad; I mean, I grow up there," Vinny stated. They passed by a small group of young female tourists and he turned around as they walked past with a big smile and a nod of his head. Jamie just stared at him like he was ludicrous.

"Yeah and look how you turned out," he countered with a wry, knowing smile.

"Very funny, Reagan. Very funny."

A loud shriek interrupted Jamie from making another comment. They looked up and a few feet away from them, they saw as a young male tumbling into an elderly woman, grabbed her red bag and took off down the sidewalk.

"Sometimes they make it too easy, man," Vinny remarked before he set off, with Jamie right behind him.

They started their chase of the thief and had gained in on him after he rounded three corners but he showed no sign of stopping. He never looked back either. He continued to run just out of reach of the two NYPD officers.

By now Jamie's lungs were beginning to burn as much as the muscles in his legs. But he forced himself to keep running a little faster just like his partner ahead of him was doing. Both pairs of trained eyes never left the fleeing purse snatcher.

Jamie noticed where their suspect was headed to and an odd feeling of dread suddenly filled his stomach. He was surprised at how quickly that sensation was associated with the vision of the Bitterman Project coming closer. He guessed that seeing a young woman jump off the roof of a building with her baby boy in her arms would do that to a person.

The suspect jumped over a small fence and rounded the corner to one of the entrances that lead to the Bitterman grounds. Only then did he look back and when he noticed how close the officers were getting, he accelerated even more.

"Hey Vinny, we need back-up to go in there, hold up!" Jamie yelled to his partner in front of him.

"I got him, Reagan, I got him!" Vinny was quick to reassure and didn't seem to have anything else in his sights than the running man ahead.

"12-George requesting a 10-85 forthwith," Jamie announced into his shoulder radio, his breathing heavy. "In pursuit of a male Hispanic, heading into the Bitterman houses. We need back-up!"

The man jumped into a bench and used it as leverage to land in the fenced-in grass area and continued running along that path, Vinny hot on his heels.

"Stop, police!" Vinny shouted but unsurprisingly the suspect did not comply.

He instead disappeared for a fraction of a second as he ran along the wall of one of the apartments and rounded the corner. As both Vinny and Jamie reached the other side, the man was completely gone.

"Where the hell he'd go?" Vinny wondered out loud and stopped dead in his tracks just as his partner did below him on the pavement.

They had reached the main courtyard and it was nothing but a big empty space. Basketballs and different toys lay forgotten and the two small swings were moving back and forth, slowly and abandoned. It was eerily quiet and that was saying something when you thought of Bitterman and that was exactly why the two police officers instantly felt uneasy.

"Where is everybody?" Vinny said and jumped over the fence and into the courtyard to stand next to Jamie. He pulled his gun out and moved forward, eyes searching for a possible threat.

"_Sometimes they make it too easy, man_" Vinny's own words echoed inside Jamie's head and suddenly he knew why the man hadn't looked around until he had reached the Bitterman area and why there were no people around here at all.

"Vinny, it's a set-up, come on," he said and reached out to his partner so he could get both of them out of the open courtyard.

But before Vinny could open his mouth to respond or take another step, a loud crackling noise echoed across the open space and Jamie suddenly felt a fiery pain enter his shoulder and sent a burning fire across his chest and down his right arm. He fell to the ground with a cry, his other hand clutching his shoulder.

Vinny snapped his head around just in time to watch his partner fall and he started to run over to help him. But just as he took the first step another round was fired and he collapsed bonelessly to the ground. The gunshots never stopped, even for a second and kept peppering the cement around the two fallen officers.

"Vinny!" Jamie breathed out as he watched him fall. He started to crawl towards his fallen partner, gritting his teeth against the pain but otherwise did his best to ignore it. His own agony was not a priority right now. As he got closer his eyes widened at what he saw.

Vinny was gasping for air and weakly holding his hand against the bleeding wound in his neck that continued to spit out blood and colored the white ground beneath him red. A bullet embedded itself an inch from Jamie's head and he knew he had to get them both out of the line of fire sooner rather than later. Therefore he quickly wrapped an arm around Vinny's chest and began to drag him towards the nearest wall a good ten feet away. His shoulder protested at the harsh movement and he couldn't help the grunt of pain that escaped his lips as he was dragging the limp form of his partner towards safety.

When he finally reached their destination he all but collapsed against the wall with Vinny in his arms. His right arm was pretty much useless by now, so he let it hang limply by his side against the wall while he placed his shaking hand on top of the bleeding wound to try and stop the steady flow of blood that continued to pool out over Vinny's throat. The limp officer's own hand had fallen to the ground and red liquid now ran down his chin from his mouth. His eyes were large and flickering around restlessly, never settling on one spot

"I got you, Vinny," Jamie said, his voice breathless and strained. "It's okay, I got you. Look at me."

Vinny snapped his gaze up to him when he heard the order.

"You're gonna be fine, alright? Vinny, come on, stay with me, fight!"

But the Hispanic officer closed his eyes instead and a small smile stretched out across his lips.

When Jamie saw it, he started to panic. "Open your eyes, man. Stop smiling!"

"It's okay, it's okay, Reagan. I told you: this is the end … it's okay …" Vinny said it so quietly and calmly that it chilled Jamie to the bone. He started to shake his partner as if that would keep him from bleeding out and keep him on earth with him.

But the violent movement sent painful jolts through his arm and his chest and his own world started to spin wildly. He sagged further against the wall as his vision blurred until he could only see muddled pools of blue, white and red.

"Vinny …" he muttered as his mind went thick and his thoughts jumbled together.

With his hand still pressed against Vinny's neck he closed his eyes and surrendered to the sudden pulling darkness, unaware of the way his own blood mixed with Vinny's on the cold cement ground.

**TBC**


	2. Sigh No More

**Title:** The Lost Perspective

**Chapter Title: **Sigh No More

**Summary: **A fiery pain spread out from his shoulder and he tried to slow down the blood seeping out. But he didn't have time for that. For two feet away from him, his partner lay dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

**Author's Note: **A massive thanks to all of you guys who have reviewed, added to favorites or alerts. It warms my heart to know that you guys are enjoying the story! So thank you :D

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing that you might recognize (a fact I have learned over and over again sadly)

* * *

Sergeant of the 12th precinct Anthony Renzulli pulled over his squad car with a heavy burden on his heart. A call requesting a 10-13 had come in five minutes ago and Renzulli had paled visibly when he heard that it had been Jamie and that it had originated from the Bitterman area. There was nothing to find out there than trouble and uncooperative witnesses. The last few calls they have had from there had always proved difficult and tiring and when the responding officers got back they would always have depressing or wild stories to tell.

And now a 10-13 had been called from out there and Renzulli knew that it had to happen, but he had always hoped that it wouldn't get that far. But it had done exactly that and now one or maybe even two of his men were injured or worse.

He stopped the car with a shrieking whine of the tires, just like the two other police cars with him, at the entrance to the Bitterman Project.

All six officers ran out of their vehicles with the sirens still blasting loudly and into the area where the 10-13 had come from. The courtyard that was their destination was empty and silent. Bullets had shot large holes in the pavement and the blue police hat that lay abandoned in the middle of the open area was illuminated by the sun's rays.

Renzulli quickly found the reason for the 10-13 as he spotted the two young officers slumped against a low wall. "I got them!" he yelled out loud and two of his officers followed him while the other three searched and cleared the area.

Vinny was leaning against Jamie's chest, his eyes closed and blood covering his mouth and neck, staining the collar of his NYPD uniform. Jamie had his hand covering Vinny's wound but it didn't look like he put a lot of pressure on it anymore. When Renzulli raised his gaze to his face he knew why: his eyes were also closed and his complexion was a pale white. But there were no injuries on him that the sergeant could spot.

"Jamie?" he tried, but he got no response.

Then the two officers next to him, Dante and Wang, moved Vinny away to place him on his back and check for a pulse and Renzulli's eyes widened.

On Jamie's right shoulder, the one he had pressed against the wall and hidden from sight, was a bloody mess of a bullet hole. Fresh blood was still leaking from the wound and down his chest and arm, making his shirt a darker blue and staining part of the wall and the ground. Renzulli put two fingers on his jugular and waited. A very fast but steady beat pulsed underneath.

Sighing relieved, he grabbed a hold of the front of Jamie's shirt and gently lowered him to the ground where he immediately put pressure on the injury, causing a small grunt of pain to erupt from Jamie's throat.

"Jamie? Kid, can you hear me?" he tried again, but the younger officer's eyes remained stubbornly closed and aside from his head lolling slowly back and forth on the pavement he didn't react. Renzulli turned his head towards Vinny's position where Wang was holding two fingers on the side of his neck that wasn't torn while Dante had his fingers lapsed around the opposite bleeding side.

"He alive?"

"Barely," Wang answered grimly. "I don't think he can hold on much longer."

Renzulli looked down to his trainee again, despair clutching at his heart. He had not only one, but two officers down and that was all because of some sort of stupid war against an out of control gang and New York's most stubborn finest. Not that he blamed anyone of them; not Danny, not the Commissioner or any of the other 30.000 cops in the city. It was their job to ensure the safety of the citizens that lived here and they would do it no matter where, what and who. It was the job they signed on for and the oath they took when they did.

But it was days like this and projects like the Bitterman houses that made Renzulli curse silently about the restrictions of the law they were fighting to uphold. Because it was obvious that illegal actions were being made within the small community and the involved held such power over the innocents that they were too scared to come forward and help. Which caused officers such as himself, or Jamie Reagan or Vinny Cruz, to take extra shifts and go to greater lengths to fight the crime that was transpiring within the Bitterman community. Not that it was their fault either.

No, Renzulli did not blame the innocent people that lived here in fear. The blame fell entirely on the cowardly bastards who had taken this one step too far and lured two police officers into a deadly trap.

His eyes fell on Jamie's face again and noticed that the kid's pallor had gone one shade whiter. Fear instantly grabbed his heart.

Out of his ear he detected the sound of blaring sirens coming closer and he prayed that it would be the ambulances arriving. One quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it: Neither Jamie or Vinny could afford losing anymore precious time.

* * *

Jamie could hear all the noises around him.

He could hear the small wheels of the gurney rolling over the linoleum floor when they arrived at the hospital and he could hear the doctors surrounding him spitting out orders and medical references he really didn't understand, even if his muddled brain had worked properly. He could hear the shuffling and squeaking of moving feet and clothes rustling against skin and things been dropped or tossed to the floor and he could vaguely make out Renzulli's rusty and concerned voice calling his name in the background.

But most of all, he could hear his own blood rushing by his ears and a heavy, strangled breathing that sounded so close it had to be his own, though he could not for the life of him comprehend why it was so hard to breathe.

He could feel hands touching, turning and prodding him like he had no dignity at all, but he found that when he tried to swat them away, he couldn't move a muscle. His body felt too heavy and tired and even the meager action of opening his eyes had proved too great of a challenge. So he was forced to lie there, on a straight and uncomfortable surface, while other people touched him. He couldn't quite place why it was they were pawing on him or shouting orders in panicking voices, like there was something wrong. If they could just leave him be and just let him sleep for a few moments. That was all he needed. In fact, he was so exhausted that that was probably just what he could use …

The prick of a needle entering his arm tore him out of his slumbering thoughts and into wide awareness. Suddenly he knew exactly why his body was so tired and why people were yelling.

_The running, the pain, the gunshots, the blood _…

_Vinny …_

"Vinny!" he gasped out loud as he quickly sat up, much to the doctors and nurses' surprise. Instantly he was assaulted with a pain that exploded in his chest and vibrated up and out into his right arm and he couldn't stop the shout of pain that followed. Gentle hands landed on his chest and back and he could feel the latex of their gloves on his bare skin.

_Wait …_

He looked down on himself and saw that he was only in his blue trousers and boots. His bloodied and tattered shirt had been cut from his body and lay discarded on the floor of the trauma room. He paid no attention to it.

"My partner," he breathed, the back of his mind telling him that his voice shouldn't sound that hoarse or weak. "My partner's been shot … He-he's dying … You have to help him …"

"Sir, you have to lie down," a female voice said, her voice stern yet gentle. "He's in the other room. They are doing everything they can to help him."

Jamie immediately looked to his right where he saw a set of double doors, behind which several more doctors were walking around fervently, yelling at each other. He caught a glimpse of his partner on the stretcher. His eyes closed and his blood tainting everything in the room: the sheet he was laying on, the doctors' light blue scrubs, the floor … Jamie didn't think he had seen that much blood before. It stunned him in the half-sitting position he was in, because he realized it was all coming from his partner.

"Please, sir, lie down," the female voice ordered again.

Jamie ignored it.

"Is he going to be okay?" he rasped. "You … have to tell me … if he's going to be … okay …"

His lungs were suddenly starving for oxygen and no matter how hard he tried to take a breath it never seemed like it was deep enough. An increased spike of pain sent shivers down his spine; it only fueled the fire. A cry escaped his lips as the flames started to lick the inside of his body. The trauma room with the many people shrunk and all he wanted at that moment was a gulp full of air so he could just _breathe_ again.

"He's going to be fine, but you have to lie down!" the female voice quickly assured and then the hands on his body forced him back into a horizontal position again.

Out of the blue a plastic mask was placed over his nose and mouth and he felt straps tightening around the back of his skull. Precious air started flowing past his lips and through his nostrils and it was like a weight being removed from his chest because now he could breathe!

But the pain didn't subside. If anything, it seemed to increase its strength until there was nothing else he could focus on. All there was in his world was a red-hot fire that burned in his torso. His blood was pumping like mad and his head felt like it was going to be split in two. The faces looking down on him melted together into one big mass of different colors until there was nothing but darkness.

He vaguely heard someone shout "_He's crashing!_" before oblivion took him and pulled him under.

* * *

Outside of the Trauma Room doors Renzulli was watching everything that was going on and dreaded the kind of call he now had to make to the Commissioner of New York City.

**TBC**


	3. Whispers of the Dark

**Title:** The Lost Perspective

**Chapter Title: **Whispers of the Dark

**Summary: **A fiery pain spread out from his shoulder and he tried to slow down the blood seeping out. But he didn't have time for that. For two feet away from him, his partner lay dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

**Author's Note:** Once again, thank you to all of you guys for reviewing and/or adding to your lists! All of it warms my heart!

And I totally forgot to mention it at the beginning but this story is finished and updates will come twice a week. For any of the curious ….

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I cannot claim ownership of Blue Bloods or any of its characters … Which is kinda sad.

* * *

The entrance doors to St. Victors Hospital burst open as Danny slammed his palms impatiently against them. He stalked with long, heavy steps inside towards his destination with a wild look on his face and his breathing labored.

Behind him his father and wife followed, looking equally despaired and lost. They followed Danny through the large, bare hallways until they reached the waiting area of the Emergency Room where Renzulli was waiting. The front of his blue shirt was stained, making the fabric shiny and darker. He had his hat clutched tightly in his bloodied hands, a result of either the stressful situation that was currently unfolding or the sight of the angry and scared detective that was practically running for him.

"Danny," he greeted hesitantly, having no idea where else to start.

"Is he in there?" Danny interrupted in an angry and demanding tone. He pointed towards the closed set of doors where shadows with fast movements were running around and shouts of orders could be heard.

"Danny …"

"Answer me!" the detective roared. "Is he in there?"

Before Renzulli could open his mouth to respond the doors opened with a bang, causing the two police officers to snap their eyes away from each other and towards the entrance. Several doctors exited before a bed appeared. And lying limply on top of it was Jamie.

Danny immediately took off and came up to his bedside before any of the following doctors or nurses could react. What he saw caused him to freeze for a second in shock. His kid brother's skin was much paler than it used to be, which made the blood on his face stand out even more. His chest, that was moving up and down in a fast pace, was bare but bandages were covering most of his upper right side and they were tinted with shades of red as blood had already begun to seep through. An oxygen mask was placed over his mouth and nose.

"Jamie?" Danny tried but the kid didn't show he had heard him in any way. "Kid, come on."

"Sir, you have to step away," a nurse firmly told him. She held up a hand to stop him from following.

"Why? Where are you taking him?" Danny slowed down slightly but still tried to move around the lithe woman with his eyes glued to his brother's form that was being wheeled further down the hall.

"It's okay, Marie, I'll take it from here," one of the doctors that was furthest behind the small group said and walked away from his moving patient towards the distraught family member. The nurse moved away hesitantly and the grey-haired doctor took her place and placed his hands on his hips.

"They are taking him up to surgery," he gently explained.

"Surgery?"

"The bullet didn't exit his body and it has moved further down, so we need to remove it as quickly as we can and repair the damage. If you head to the waiting room I will come and update you as soon as I can, alright?"

Danny could only nod his agreement as the image of his brother was still being displayed behind his eyes and the word surgery was ringing in his ears. He turned around to find Renzulli, Frank and Linda looking at him for answers. He zeroed in on Jamie's former training officer.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"They were ambushed out in Bitterman. When I got there they were both down," Renzulli sighed wearily.

Danny paled visibly. Of course, it had happened in Bitterman. That place had caused more than a fair trade of troubles lately. Especially with Los Lordes' oh-so-holy bastard of a leader. Anger and hatred swelled inside his chest.

"It has written Santana all over it!" he exclaimed. "That son of a bitch! I'm going to tear him apart!"

"Danny, there's nothing you can do about that right now," Linda gently said as she laid her hands on her husband's arm comfortingly. "You heard what the doctor said. Let's just head to the waiting room, alright? Come on."

She tugged at him slightly so that he would follow and prayed that he would see out of the haze of fear and anger to what was really a priority at the moment. Luckily, he just sagged inwards as the fight left his body and let his wife steer him through the halls.

* * *

His leg was bouncing up and down, impatiently and absently, as he sat staring into space. This was not how he planned on spending his Sunday.

He paid no attention to his surroundings. The stiffness his back had acclaimed after sitting on the hard plastic chair for hours; the different hospital staff that rushed past him and the soles of their shoes shrieking on the floor; the cries of either relief or sadness that erupted from the other visitors as they were told the fate of their loved ones; his wife's reassuring hand resting on his shoulder … all of it was lost to him.

His focus was solely planted on the doors labeled with the words: _Operating Area - Authorized personnel only_.

He knew that somewhere behind those doors his baby brother would be fighting for his life. He didn't know how bad it had been when both he and Frank had gotten a call and interrupted Sunday dinner. At first Danny had been pissed because he thought Los Lordes had stirred up some trouble for him to come and clean up again.

Turned out they had, only this time the consequences were much, much worse.

And that was all because of that slime ball Santana. He wanted nothing more than to punch that sucker so hard in the face that he would be spitting teeth for a week. He knew that it had been Santana that had been behind the ambush that placed his brother in the hospital along with his partner. The wannabe-gangster had openly threatened Danny and everyone in the police department.

Danny had been smug, of course. It was his line of defense when it came to scumbags like the Los Lordes leader, but secretly he had dreaded what the drug dealer would come up with. He was resourceful when it came to violent acts and crime, so there was no telling what he would do.

When he got his answer, it turned out his premonitions had been true. Santana had set up a trap that he knew would hit the Commissioner and the entire department the most. That one of his victims had ended up being Jamie Reagan, son of the PC, had probably just been icing on the cake; an extra reward.

The detective couldn't help but secretly hate himself for his decisions. After all, it was him who had told Santana to stick it where the sun shines and him who had almost welcomed the promise of war afterwards. He had brought this down on the NYPD. Because of his cockiness, his little brother was now lying on an operating table with a bullet wound.

His hatred for the Hispanic drug dealer grew rapidly as images of Jamie, covered in his own blood, emerged again and refused to leave his mind.

Linda had been sitting beside him for the entire time and had watched him closely, concerned for him just as much as Jamie. So she immediately noticed when Danny tensed up suddenly.

"What's wrong?" she said and pried him out of his thoughts.

Danny looked at her closely, his eyes scanning her face while he decided whether or not he should share his feelings with her. He saw all of the concern, pain and kindness she portrayed and knew that either he would start talking on his own or she would force it out of him. He sighed heavily.

"This was my fault … I challenged him. I started the war and he decided to go after my brother as revenge …" He didn't clarify who he was talking about and he didn't need to. She understood the second he said it.

"You can't blame yourself for this, Danny. What could you have done? You wouldn't have let it be anyway and you shouldn't."

"I know, it's just … Jamie," Danny breathed out the name hesitantly. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was scared. He was afraid that his brother would die on that table and there was nothing Danny could do about it. He was scared that Jamie would slip through his fingers just as Joe did. He was scared to lose another brother. He couldn't lose Jamie.

"I know, honey," Linda comforted. She placed her arms around his broad chest and placed a quick kiss on his shoulder before she rested her head there. "But I also know that he is going to make it and then you will catch that son of a bitch."

Danny couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his lips. Somehow, Linda always knew what to say to make him feel better. And it did, because he also knew that she meant and believed every word she said.

His eyes drifted longingly towards the doors again.

A spike of sadness tugged at his heart. Fear joined in. _Please be okay, kid_.

Linda looked on as she saw her husband's gaze filling up with fear. She didn't hesitate when her hand reached down and her fingers intertwined with his. His grip tightened around her hand, sinking into the small act of comfort, and showed all of the things he didn't say out loud. The fear and the gratitude for being there with him.

All he needed now was for his brother to live and sent out a prayer for anyone who would be willing to listen.

_Don't you dare let him die._

**TBC**


	4. I Gave You All

**Title:** The Lost Perspective

**Chapter Title: **I Gave You All

**Summary:** A fiery pain spread out from his shoulder and he tried to slow down the blood seeping out. But he didn't have time for that. For two feet away from him, his partner lay dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

**Author's Note:** Again, before we continue on to the chapter, a quick but huge thank you to all of you who continue to show your support to this story!

Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **Written for entertainment purposes only. I own nothing.

* * *

By the time the waiting reached its third hour, Danny had become a statue. When it finally hit him that there was absolutely nothing he could do to try and help his baby brother or to make the waiting time pass by quicker, he found himself in a tonic state with no one to keep him company but his thoughts.

They were running around inside his head like a herd of wild horses, never stopping to rest. Before him he saw all the memories he had of his family. His energetic boys, his wonderful and understanding wife, his stoic grandfather, his beloved sister and her own daughter, his steady-as-a-rock father …

Their smiling faces kept appearing in front of his eyes and their laughter echoed in his head. But all of them would disappear in an instant and be replaced with Jamie's bleeding body and his closed eyes. He would stand in front of him and ask him in an angry voice why on earth he couldn't just keep his big mouth shut for once.

It was irrational to blame himself for it, he knew, but somewhere deep down he felt responsible for what had happened. He would always feel responsible for Jamie. The small voice seemed to grow bigger and louder the more he thought about it until it was too loud to ignore. He just had to play the arrogant cop, how else could he have responded, but in the end it ended up biting him in the ass.

He saw Santana's smug face smiling at him, like he knew what was going to happen even if Danny tried to stop it if he could. He saw his gesture of power and the two guns that meant that the war had now begun.

"_Because we're not greedy, because we're not stupid … and because we respect the NYPD_."

If that scumbag had that much respect for the police he would have never started his narcotics business and he wouldn't have set up two police officers to die.

Respect, his ass.

He couldn't wait to punch his arrogant face six ways to Sunday.

* * *

Frank was sitting stiffly in the chair, not really bothering to listen to Garrett's ramblings about the political way to put a damper on all the things that were starting to stir up after the shooting, especially concerning the Bitterman Housing Project. It wasn't that he wasn't interested, although it was mostly political nonsense, but no matter how hard he tried to focus on the very one-sided conversation, his mind kept drifting back to his son.

He wanted nothing more than to drive back to the hospital and be with the rest of his family, but most importantly, with his youngest. He hadn't even gotten a look at him before he was wheeled away into surgery, but based on the terrified look on Danny's face, he probably didn't want to. It had been bad … very bad, and that was not something he needed burned into his cornea.

He hated how far things had spiraled out of control between the NYPD and Bitterman. He hated how violent and how far events had to go before serious action would be taken. But perhaps, those events needed to happen so the two sides could finally realize how serious this situation was and how it desperately needed to be handled.

There were times when he despised sitting in the Commissioner's chair and when it burned like fire beneath him. Those were the days he regretted accepting the job, but he also knew that if he didn't take it someone else would have and maybe that could have been worse.

There were good days and bad days and he took them all. But today, he couldn't even sit right on the leather. No matter how he shifted and twisted, it wasn't enough.

Had this chair always been this uncomfortable?

"Frank, are you listening?" Garrett's voice snapped him out of his musings filled with discomfort and dread.

"Any news from the hospital?" the Police Commissioner asked instead, cursing himself for getting the insecurity he felt into his voice.

Instantly the slightly annoyed look in Garrett's eyes disappeared and sad sympathy took its place there instead. But his voice remained stoic and professional. "He's still in surgery. They will call us as soon as that changes."

Frank nodded, but couldn't help pressing his lips together tightly, just he always did when he was in deep thought or something bothered him.

But fate seemed to grant him a little luck and a few seconds later the phone on the table vibrated and sent its blessed tones through the room, causing two set of eyes to snap over at it.

* * *

Danny was torn suddenly out from his thoughts when he felt Linda's hand tighten for a second in his and he looked up. Out of the double doors he had been staring at for so long, came the same doctor that had talked to him briefly when they first took Jamie up to the surgery floor.

He had small droplets of blood on his scrubs and a grim and exhausted look on his face. Danny's heart started beating away like mad. It couldn't be …

The doctor sighed before beginning to speak.

"The bullet buried itself in his right shoulder and entered the bloodstream where it was carried further down until it reached one of the larger blood vessels to the heart where it got stuck," he started carefully. "There were quite an extensive amount of damage done, but we were able to get in and repair it and remove the bullet."

"So he is going to be okay?" Danny was quick to press on, a habit from years of interrogation mixed with born impatience.

"The damage was large and it was touch-and-go a few moments, but he is currently stable. I'm optimistic, but right now it can go both ways. We just have to wait and see."

"Can we see him?" Linda asked, never releasing the grip she had on her husband's hand.

"We're getting ready to move him to the ICU, so I will call for you shortly, alright?"

"Okay, doctor. Thank you," Linda said with a small smile.

She then turned and pulled her husband into a relieved hug and Danny released the breath he couldn't remember holding and let it out with a shaky huff. For the first time since arriving at the hospital he felt like he could breathe properly.

The doctor watched the relieved couple for a few seconds, letting the news sink in, before he spoke hesitantly. "Uh, I hate to ask but do you know if Vincent Cruz' family has arrived yet?"

"Yeah," Danny sighed, suddenly feeling very exhausted. "I think his mother is on her way, but it could take awhile. Do you have an update on him?"

"I should wait until she arrives …"

"He's practically family, Doc. I can talk to her when she gets here."

The doctor looked at Danny's worn out expression that was practically begging for him to say it. He knew he couldn't get around it so he sighed, up-giving. "Vincent Cruz died an hour ago."

The words didn't sink in for the first two seconds. When they did, Danny couldn't help the outburst that escaped his lips.

"What?"

"We did everything we could but the blood loss was just too great. I'm sorry."

The detective turned around and started to walk away, out of reach from both the grey-haired doctor and his wife.

He needed a little space right now. He needed some time for his brain to process all the information he had just been given. Jamie was alive, but it still looked bad … Vinny was dead … His kid brother's partner was dead. And his brother might still not make it. Life and God had a twisted sense of what was fair and right in this world. He wanted-no, he _needed_ some air otherwise he might end up exploding in someone's face and unless that someone was Santana, that wasn't happening.

He stalked through the halls, avoiding every eye and person he met and exited through the hospital doors. He welcomed the cold night air of the city as it hit his skin.

* * *

The Deputy Commissioner looked up from his phone when he neared the front doors, just as Danny exited. The detective had his eyes trained on the ground and didn't even acknowledge Garret as he sped past him.

Garret stopped at the entrance and glanced after him with concern. When Danny Reagan was running away in anger or despair it usually meant things were far from good.

Therefore it was with feeling of dread he walked towards the surgical unit floor and down the hallway where he found Frank standing in front of a Plexiglas window, staring intently inside. He didn't seem to pay attention to much of what was going on around him and he didn't really seem to care either. It wasn't until he turned his head towards his Deputy Commissioner as he heard him approach, that Garret saw the amount of fear and sorrow in his eyes. When he saw the look on his face horror started to spread through his bones.

"No …" he whispered fearfully.

"Vinny's dead," Frank tried to state matter-of-factly, but his voice betrayed him and it ended up sounding like the heart-breaking statement it truly was.

"And Jamie?" Garret was almost afraid to ask.

"He's alive … for now."

"Frank, I'm so sorry. If there's anything-"

"I want a press conference," Frank interrupted, his eyes turning hard and determined. Garrett didn't need to voice it, because Frank could clearly see that he didn't believe it was a good idea, but he couldn't care less. Things had run out of control for so long and now a police officer had died. _Vinny_ was dead. He was gone and his youngest son was lying somewhere in this hospital. He didn't care for good ideas and politics anymore. He wanted something done; action had to be taken even if he had to do it himself.

He would create peace between Bitterman and NYPD and since nobody else wanted to take the first daring step, he would gladly take up the front.

He just prayed that not only would the NYPD follow, but the good residents of the Bitterman Housing Project would as well.

Now time had come for great measures to be taken.

* * *

"_Officer Vincent Cruz must not have died in vein. Nor should the young woman from the Bitterman houses, Noni Palmiera, whose despair was so great that she took her own life and that of her baby boy. So I'm making a call to arms … in their memory._"

* * *

**TBC**


	5. Winter Winds

**Title:** The Lost Perspective

**Chapter Title: **Winter Winds

**Summary: **A fiery pain spread out from his shoulder and he tried to slow down the blood seeping out. But he didn't have time for that. For two feet away from him, his partner lay dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so … I have taken the final scene of "The Bitter End" episode and only rewritten it a little, because I figured that now that Jamie was in the hospital too, Danny would be a little bit angrier and not so good at keeping it all bolted up like he did. So … not a very big change, but enough so that I wanted to write it into the story :)

Also, there is going to be some Jamie in this one! Yay!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything you might recognize. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Frank was stationed in the chair that was placed next to Jamie's bed.

It was surprisingly comfortable for a hospital chair so it made it easier to stay with his son for several hours without getting kinks in his back like some of the other furniture that donned the hospital floors used to. The other explanation of course could be that he had simply adjusted to the cheap hospital furniture. That depressing thought sort of scared him, so he chose to believe that he had simply been lucky enough to get one of the good rooms.

Jamie was oblivious to it all, lying there lifelessly on the bed. From Frank's point of view, it didn't look like he was even remotely comfortable. Of course, there were the main reasons for that. The many wires that snaked across Jamie's skin and under his gown and was connected to machines, standing next to him, that beeped every once in a while and filled the room with the only noise. It was interrupted however by his deep but troubled breathing that hitched slightly every once in a while when his body worked too hard to draw in a breath. It didn't seem like the nasal cannula under Jamie's nose helped with that effort, but if the doctors believed that was enough then who was Frank to argue against it?

But even though all of the machines and Jamie's almost ashen complexion bothered Frank, that wasn't what scared him the most. It was the look on Jamie's face that got to him and that was the one that told him that his son was far from comfortable. His eyebrows were knitted together, like in deep thought, and underneath his closed eyelids his eyes flickered restlessly around. He looked to be in a great deal of pain and barely resting at all.

He looked so haunted, even in his sleep, and Frank couldn't even begin to imagine what his dreams- or nightmares- would be like. And that petrified Frank more than anything else, because there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

* * *

He didn't know how long he had been sitting in the chair. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes. Frank was stuck inside his own mind, with recurring thoughts of what he should do as Police Commissioner and what he should do as a father.

All of his options and feelings were scrambled together in his mind as he stared like a statue at his youngest son on the bed. He didn't even notice the other presence in the room, before Danny knocked on the open door. It immediately tore Frank out of his thoughts and he turned his head briefly to wordlessly acknowledge his eldest before turning his head back again.

"How's he doing?" Danny started as he walked inside. He stopped by the foot of the hospital bed and leaned forward on the railing.

"As well as can be expected."

"Good," Danny sighed. "That's good."

A silence fell, neither awkward nor comfortable. The two Reagans didn't have much to say at the moment, other than angry or despairing words that would change nothing about their current situation, so they settled for watching their beloved family member and listening to the steady beeps of the heart monitor and Jamie's heavy breathing. Each of them got lost in their own depressing thoughts.

The silence didn't last very long however. It ended when Danny suddenly snapped out of his involuntary standing stupor and turned away from the depressing sight of his unconscious brother towards the door.

"Danny …" Frank tried to argue, but his son didn't listen and continued out the door. Sighing, he got up from the chair. He ignored the slight kinks that it had created in his back and his stiff legs and followed Danny into the hallway. Jamie remained completely oblivious to his surroundings.

Out in the hall, Frank quickly found Danny a few paces down. "Exactly where do you think you are going?" he called after him, his voice stopping the detective in his tracks. He turned to his father and walked the few steps towards him.

"I am going back to the station to nail that son of a bitch who did this to the wall. But I'll be making a little side trip first."

"Does this side trip happen to be out in Bitterman?" Frank asked knowingly.

"It's nothing like that. But you still can't talk me out of it if that's what you're trying to do."

"And I'm not going to. But I do want to remind you not to do something you later end up regretting."

"And what might that be?" Danny said with an up giving sigh. He needed to get away from the hospital as fast as possible and a lecture from his father wasn't what he needed at the moment.

"Something he could end up holding against you," Frank said. He knew Danny had a tendency to be hotheaded, especially when he was distraught, and if he blew up in Santana's face, things could very quickly get out of hand, more than it already had, that was.

"Trust me, he has already found his leverage. And it's lying right there in that room," Danny answered sadly, and pointed towards Jamie's room for emphasis. Before his father could open his mouth, he turned around and walked away.

Frank didn't follow.

* * *

The police cars seemed to come out of nowhere and their loud sirens startled Santana so much that he dropped the Styrofoam cup that contained the remainder of his coffee on the sidewalk.

Danny was sitting inside one of the many cars and he couldn't help but rejoice over the fact that they had already managed to make the smug son of a bitch shake his pants. But he was far from finished with that scumbag.

He got out from the passenger seat and stalked towards Santana with angry and firm steps. All he could see in front of him was Santana's smug face mixed with Jamie's pale and bloody features and he felt the anger bubble up inside of him. Before the drug dealer could open up his big mouth, Danny's fist collided with his cheek so hard that he staggered backwards several feet. Curious eyes peeked out from the coffee shop, but Danny simply couldn't find it inside of himself to care.

"You think of that next time you go after a police officer." He made his voice as threatening and steady as possible. When Santana looked at him again, he pointed to his own face before continuing. "Remember this face. From here on out, I will follow you every step you make.

"You can't walk down the street without my shadow following you; you can't drive anywhere without my car tailing yours; you can't go to sleep without knowing that I am right outside your window, watching your every move. You go after one of us and we come back 30.000 to tear you a new one. And yes, that is a very reliable threat."

He then nodded towards the fallen and forgotten Styrofoam cup on the ground and gestured with his hand. "Pick up that coffee cup, you piece of garbage."

When Santana bowed down to pick it up, Danny made sure to give him a push with his foot, which made the drug dealer stumble and fall to the ground.

"We will liberate the Bitter End. And when we do, you will be the first to go," Danny threatened silently with his voice low and intimidating.

Then he walked back to the police car he had come out of and slammed the door shut, leaving Santana on the ground to watch as the police cars drove away.

* * *

Back at the hospital, Frank still refused to leave Jamie's side. He was determined to be there when his son woke up.

But during his stay he had noticed that Jamie hadn't really begun to look better. If anything, he looked like he was getting worse. His face had gone one shade whiter during all those hours that had passed since his surgery and a small sheet of sweat clung to his forehead. The doctors had told Frank that his body was fighting off a beginning infection from the chipped bullet and they would just have to wait and see if it progressed. When the Commissioner had asked what would happen if it did, the doctor made a sour face before answering that it was best to stay positive and not think about it. An answer that unsettled Frank immensely. 'Wait and see' was all he encouragement he got.

And he was going to wait.

He answered important calls on his cell phone and those he didn't have the patience or the clarity to speak to, he directed to Garrett or the office. The number one caller he ignored was Mayor Poole. He did not have it in him to listen to his preaches, no matter how true they could be. And he didn't want to listen to his condolences either. Frank would not accept them, when his son was still alive and kicking … which he would continue to be.

So for every call or message he ignored from Poole, he got a text or call from Garrett stating the importance of communication between the Police Commissioner and the Mayor, even though he knew it was a losing battle. It was after one of Garrett's ramblings, that Frank noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't very noticeable and had it not happened again straight after, he would have thought he just imagined it.

Jamie had certainly moved … twice. His head started to move from left to right. It was very slow at first, the movements sluggish and barely noticeable. A small groan left his lips.

"Jamie?" Frank tried, barely daring to hope.

But his son didn't respond or showed that he had heard him. Instead his head started to move from side to side faster and the movements began spreading to the rest of his body. It wasn't long before he was twisting around wildly on the bed and his hands grabbed a fierce hold on the sheets beneath them. The heart monitor went haywire as Jamie's heart started to trot along so quickly that Frank swore he could hear it beating from his position in the chair. The noise attracted the hospital personnel in the nearby area and they came rushing in, before Frank could even react to what was happening.

They started yelling to each other and out in the hallway, but Frank didn't understand anything of what they were saying, not that he was really trying to. Instead his focus remained transfixed on Jamie's twisting body on the bed and the fear swelled up in him. He had already lost Joe and Mary … the thought of losing his youngest tore at his mind and nearly stopped his heart.

The last thing he saw before being whisked out of the room was a tube being forced down Jamie's throat and the mad sounds from the heart monitor.

**TBC**


	6. After the Storm

**Title:** The Lost Perspective

**Chapter Title: **After the Storm

**Summary: **A fiery pain spread out from his shoulder and he tried to slow down the blood seeping out. But he didn't have time for that. For two feet away from him, his partner lay dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

**Author's Note:** Woaw! I totally forget to post another chapter. I have had a very busy week, but I now I have time to post the chapter. We are almost at the end and things are starting to wrap up. But not quite yet, so enjoy this second to last one! :)

Oh, and again thank you all so much for reviews, favorites and alerts!

**Disclaimer: **I cannot claim any ownership of anything you might recognize.

* * *

Erin sat completely mesmerized. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't tear her gaze away from him. She feared that if she did, if she even so much as blinked, he would slip through her fingers and leave her forever. So she sat at her little brother's bedside and took everything in, silently scared that it would be the last memory she would ever get of him.

The almost ashen color of his skin. The dark rings that had formed under his eyes and made him look so much thinner and unhealthy. The small beam of sweat that lay on his furrowed brow. The way his chest was forced up and down in a steady beat as his lungs were fed oxygen from the tube that ran down from his throat. She eyed the ventilator, a gaze filled with a large amount of hatred and despair because she hated how much he depended on that machine to simply breathe. It clicked and whooshed every time he took a breath, only to start over again when he needed another. The sound mixed with that of the heart monitor that was finally beeping steadily along again.

Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on Jamie's limp hand. Though the machines told her he was still alive, she needed something more to reassure her and as long as she could feel the warmth of the limb, she would steadfast believe that he was with her … that he was still fighting to come back to them. She only needed something to believe in and her death grip on his hand provided a significant amount of faith that he would live. At least for now.

She was different that way from some of her family, especially Danny. Where her older brother would demand some sort of proof, no matter how little or insignificant, before he could truly believe and have faith, she didn't need any evidence. She worked in law, where everything depended on a strong number of evidence to decipher what was the actual truth. So when it came to having faith, she found that for once no one could demand any evidence for what she felt was the true reality. That didn't mean she had her doubts from time to time, when it seemed faith wasn't enough. But she still remained strong, or at least tried to. However, with her little brother lying so still and lifelessly on that bed in front of her, she wasn't sure she could stay so calm and collected. And with the difficult cases concerning Bitterman that didn't make any progress at all, it was hard to have one shed of positivity left in her tired mind.

A knock on the doorframe tore her out of her bitter thoughts and she lifted her head, from where she had pillowed it on her arms. She didn't even remember doing that.

Danny walked in and stood in the doorway, looking just as tired as Erin felt. His eyes fell on Jamie and rested there for a minute.

"How's dad?" Erin asked. She had arrived at the hospital just in time to see her father getting tossed out of Jamie's room and kept him company until the Mayor had called to a press conference out in Bitterman and asked Frank to join him. Or, when Frank denied, demanded his presence. Erin had promised to stay with Jamie until Frank returned. About an hour ago she had received the call about the attempted murder of both Mayor Poole and Police Commissioner Reagan.

"Still kickin'," Danny sighed.

"And the Mayor?"

"On his way to surgery … The doc's optimistic."

"That's good …" Erin stilled off and suddenly the only sounds that filled the room were coming from the life support machines. She looked up at her big brother and noticed his longing, despair-filled gaze on her younger sibling. She had seen that look enough to know what he wanted most at that moment and she was willing to give it to him. She rose from the chair.

"I'm going to get some coffee … you want something?"

"No, thanks …"

She stopped in the doorway on the way out and turned towards her brother, who in turn had moved further into the dimly lit room. "He's going to wake up, you know."

His only response was a small smile and a gentle nod of his head. Then she walked out and allowed Danny to be with his little brother.

* * *

Danny waited a few minutes after he heard the door click shut, before he moved. He stood silent like a rock and just gazed blindly into the gloomy lit room.

Then he walked with tired steps towards the bed and sat down with a heavy sigh. His eyes searched every inch of Jamie's lax face for any sign that he would be okay. That he wasn't a single step from Death's door. That he wasn't dancing around carelessly on the line between life and death. He found nothing except pained lines and a pale complexion.

"You know," he started slowly. "We're all fighting here to clean up the mess in Bitterman and for once it seems like things are moving forwards, albeit slowly. One inch at the time I suppose."

He smiled sadly a second before it quickly faded from his lips again.

"It's funny … when Sean was in here they told me that I should talk to him and that he would listen … that it could somehow help. And here they are, telling me that it doesn't matter. But it does matter doesn't it?"

"You may not be a little kid anymore, though I treat you like it sometimes." He added the last part with a wry smirk as memories of every time Jamie had protested when he had called him little. But even that faded as the cheery memories were replaced by the terrifying ones of seeing his lifeless brother covered in blood. "But you are still my baby brother and that's never going to change."

He took a deep shaky breath that rattled as it moved across his lips as he desperately tried to get his feelings under control. He closed his eyes in a vain attempt to keep the stormy emotions to stop swirling around inside of him, but when he opened them again tears brimmed in the corners. With a shaky voice he continued.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you and if I could trade places with you, you know that I would do so in a heartbeat. But I can't. So instead, I'm … I'm not one for begging, but here I am." He grabbed a hold of his brother's limp hand. "I'm begging you on my knees. And that's on you, kiddo."

He watched Jamie's face. He didn't know what he was looking for, maybe something to indicate his brother had heard him. However Jamie's eyes remained stubbornly closed, his assisted breathing didn't hitch and his fingers remained where they were in Danny's hand, limp and cold.

_Please don't leave me_.

* * *

After that, Danny swallowed back his feelings and realized that there was absolutely nothing else he could do.

So he began talking to him about the Bitterman case, of everything that happened since the shooting and pitched ideas, no matter how ludicrous, how to stop the reign of 'Los Lordes'. He stayed away from the heavy subjects and didn't even mention Vinny's name once. He did not want to burden his brother any further than was necessary, even if he couldn't hear him.

He spent hours just sitting and talking to his brother without getting as much as a reply back. It wasn't until four hours passed and he was almost out of topics that his phone rang.

He answered it tiredly but as he listened to Baez talk, his dread increased even more. When he hung up, he felt completely drained of energy. But he stood up anyway and grabbed his discarded coat from the chair.

"Looks like work's calling again. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

Just before he exited he cast a last longing glance at his sleeping brother. Then he went down the hall and met up with his partner who was waiting for him in the waiting area of the surgical floor.

As he walked, his mind went into detective thoughts and he wondered if they finally caught the break they needed with the stabbing of Nona Palmiera.

Santana had made his final mistake.

* * *

"_At 0600 hours this morning the joint task force consisting of detective bureau, narcotics division, ESU, warrant squad, gang division and patrol, armed with warrants for arrests, charges including conspiracy to murder in cases of police officer Vincent Cruz and mayor Carter Poole, narcotics possession with intent to distribute, enterprise corruption and a number of other serious charges, conducted a sweep of the Bitterman Housing Projects, arrested 47 members and associates of the 'Los Lordes' criminal organization, including their head._

_These arrests were made with information giving by the residents of the Bitterman Projects at their own risk, no promise of reward other than full NYPD cooperation, restoring law and order to their community. I would like to know this operation was carried out with full input and by design of Mayor Carter Poole with the explicit intent of conducting investigations and arrests with such a manner as to build trust between the NYPD and the Bitterman community. A trust that has been absent on both sides for far too long._"

* * *

**TBC **


	7. White Blank Page

**Title:** The Lost Perspective

**Chapter Title: **White Blank Page

**Summary: **A fiery pain spread out from his shoulder and he tried to slow down the blood seeping out. But he didn't have time for that. For two feet away from him, his partner lay dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

**Author's Note:** This is the last chapter sadly … This is where it ends. But before I let you go I would like to take a little time to say THANK YOU! To all of you who have left kind and encouraging reviews, added the story or even me to your lists of favorites or alerts. It is a support I absolutely love and adore and you give me courage to continue writing stories. It may sound cheesy, but noting makes me happier than seeing a positive review on a chapter in my inbox. (Okay, maybe a few things, but you get the picture.)

I don't know if any of you read these or just skip ahead to the story … so maybe I could be talking to myself. Well, reading it or not … Know that I thank you with all of my heart!

Now, enjoy this final chapter and don't forget to post your final thoughts!

**Disclaimer: **For the final time, I do not own anything or anyone you might recognize. This is written for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

The whole family had waited anxiously for almost a day.

Since the Bitterman Housing Projects had been made a safer place and Santana had been put permanently behind bars along with the rest of his gang, the only thing that was missing from complete closure was Jamie.

The entire Reagan household was cooped up in his room, waiting for him to wake up. Not a single family member wanted to leave and none left the room for more than half an hour. Frank never strayed far from his youngest son's side and occupied the chair next to his bed most of the time, refusing to leave him for as much as a single moment. As the day had passed, the ventilator had been turned off and the tube had been removed from Jamie's throat and the fake mechanic noise had been replaced by Jamie's deep but troubled breathing.

Most of the family was asleep when it finally did happen. The heart monitor spiked and Jamie began twisting and turning his head from side to side. He moaned when he started to come to, feeling the fiery pain that erupted from his chest and head. He was coaxed back into the land of the living by Erin with her iron grip on his hand on one side and his father gently speaking to him on the other.

You could hear the collective sigh of relief that ran over every Reagan's lips and feel the heaviness, full of despair, in the air vanish when Jamie sluggishly blinked open his eyes. They focused instantly on the worried face of his father and a small smile played out on his lips.

He rasped out a weak 'Dad'.

Relieved smiles broke out upon hearing the weak, but lucid voice.

But it lasted no more than a few minutes, before fatigue grabbed a hold of the injured Reagan again. His eyelids began dropping slowly and after a comforting assurance from his father, they drifted completely shut.

But just before sleep took him, Jamie mumbled a sentence only the two nearest Reagans could hear. Both of them paled significantly and solemnly looked at their beloved sleeping family member.

"Where's … Vinny?"

* * *

_Ten days later_

The hard stone looked cold. The grey, subtle colors seemed to match the gloomy cloudy weather that lingered above his head and the crisp wind that blew across the cemetery and tore at his clothes. It certainly matched his mood.

He tried to fold inwards on himself to protect his body from the icy bite, but his arm was still mostly immobilized by the white sling and pain stabbed through his entire body, so instead he let the wind caress his face and clear his mind. Its cold pricked at his eyes and made them water, but it didn't really matter, because tears were already threatening to fall.

His hazel orbs fell onto the scripture on the tomb stone he stood in front of and he swallowed the lump that was caught in his throat.

_Vincent Cruz_

_August 17__th__ 1978 - May 2__nd__ 2013_

_A hero till the end_

A hero till the end … Jamie somehow felt disgusted by that sentence. Vinny held on with everything he could and he was a hero in every aspect of the word. But there should never have been an end to it. The end had been cruel and sudden and he didn't deserve to die by two cowards hiding up on a roof. He didn't deserve to die and Jamie didn't deserve to live.

If anything, he should be lying right there next to him. Why should Vinny die and he himself live? It made no sense at all and Jamie wasn't sure he understood what God had intended, if he was even there anymore. It seemed like he wasn't, because if he was he wouldn't have taken his partner so soon and so violently.

He couldn't comprehend that Vinny was actually dead. His mind refused to believe that his partner was dead and he expected him to pop out of a hiding place, laughing his ass off.

"_You didn't think you could get rid of me so easily, did ya Reagan?_"

He could almost hear his voice and he wondered if it was just the pain medication or if he was going crazy. His shoulder throbbed again and he was reminded that he was in fact alive and that Vinny wasn't. He wished he could just go numb so he wouldn't have to feel anything. So that he could be free from feeling the constant pain of both the gunshot wound and the loss of his partner and friend, free from feeling like a failure for having survived.

Most of these thoughts were irrational, he knew because he had felt some of them before when both Joe and his mother died.

Joe …

A shutter went down his spine as a distant memory reached his mind. It had been so real yet he knew it hadn't been … it couldn't have been.

"Figured I might find you here," a voice tore him out of his thoughts. He didn't need to turn his head to know it was Danny.

"You here to tell me to go home, rest?" Jamie said, his eyes never leaving the grey hunk of stone in front of him.

"No."

This got his attention and finally he met his older brother's eyes. He saw a deep concern and sadness.

"I'm here to keep you company," Danny stated firmly and crossed his arms when he too felt the cold wind hug his skin. He eyed his baby brother. "How you're doing?"

"I'm alright."

"Cut the crap, kid. I can see right through you. Other than the obvious, something else's bugging you."

"Danny …"

"Kid, come on, tell me what's wrong."

"It isn't …"

"Please." Danny's eyes were just as pleading as his voice and both were heavy with concern.

Jamie sighed and evaded his eyes, contemplating whether or not he should tell him. Ultimately, the choice was made easily. "I saw Joe."

Surprise colored Danny's features.

"When I was … under. It was brief. It barely lasted a second. But I saw him."

"Did he talk to you?"

"He told me to stay strong."

"I guess he's always looking out for us, huh?" Danny said with a solemn smirk.

"For the briefest of moments I thought I saw Vinny there too, right next to Joe … I should have protected him better." A condescending tone crept into his voice, full of loathing and anger. Danny knew they weren't talking about Joe anymore.

"Jamie …"

"I knew it was a trap and yet I didn't get him out of there. I wasn't fast enough to save him … I should have saved him. Should have done more …" His voice dropped to a whisper and faded slowly.

"You did everything you could."

"Then why doesn't it feel like I did?" Finally Jamie raised his eyes to meet Danny's and the older Reagan saw all the hurt and despair in those hazel orbs.

"That's just the grief talking. You listen to me when I say you did everything you could. You stopped the life from leaving him in that courtyard until help arrived with a bullet in your shoulder. You kept him alive as long as you could," Danny grabbed a hold of Jamie's shoulders, careful not to put too much pressure of his wounded one. He was desperate to make his brother see reason. "You did your part and everybody else did theirs. You can't be angry at them and least of all yourself. If you want to place blame on anyone, place it on Santana. That scumbag is the only guilty one in this and now he's paying for it."

"He died alone …" Jamie whispered.

"No, he died among friends," Danny was quick to counter. "Right now, you're hurting and that's okay. Just remember that you are not alone either. I'm here for you. You are my brother and I love you. Never forget that."

Jamie looked up from the ground and finally Danny saw some of the light and hope return on his eyes. A small smile slowly spread across his lips. "You've been reading too many of Linda's books."

Danny couldn't help but smile back. He was glad to see some of his baby brother still remained. "You know me, kiddo. Books aren't exactly my style."

Jamie laughed. The first real laugh he had done since waking up.

"Come on, I hear Dad's making pork chops," Danny said and began leading his brother away from the cemetery, towards the car.

"Hey Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Danny said and placed his hand on Jamie's uninjured shoulder. "Just don't go pull some crap like that again."

Jamie grinned.

"Deal."

And suddenly he knew. He knew that he was going to be okay. It would take time and a lot of effort, but eventually he would survive this. He would come out on the other side, stronger and wiser, and he would make Vinny proud.

**THE END**


End file.
